Sometimes I can see it as clear as crystal. There are days I wake up and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt with straight as an arrow accuracy, like it’s shot forth from the sun, aimed true, arriving whole, point on.

… as a mirror,sheer, sharp, angled in a reflective and repeating pattern that goes on into infinity.

Other times it’s shadowed and billowy, like smoke, hiding in the twilight, blurred and hazy.

What is this that I think I know? What is it that rings clear with truth, a pure tone, one note alone?

It is the truth of a humble heart.

For the world clamors with the noise of power and control. It pays its respects to the prosperous and those with clout and prestige, bowing to the mighty. But how have they arrived? By walking upon the the backs of the broken, wounded or needy?

I’m not speaking of the pitifully pious; the stone-hurlers. Far from it. There are those who follow the true spirit of a sandal clad Christ, feeding multitudes, healing the hurting and crying with the wounded.

Nations rage, hands grasp, turmoil surges. Divisions of color, race and creed multiply like the fish of the sea.

But the humble heart is open. The humble heart is love. It is giving and kind, serving and empathetic. It clothes the naked, houses the orphan, helps the single mother with no food on her table. It doesn’t search out the bottom line or interest accrued. It reserves judgement and overlooks faults. It cares for those on the perimeters, regardless of creed, color or identity.

They will be the first to say they are far from perfect, but isn’t that the essence of humility?

There are those who are on my list of heroes, and their names aren’t etched on walls. My heart pushes past the boisterous arrogance of pulpit pounding and self-promotion, leaning in to watch as these men and women wash the dirty feet of neglected children and wipe the tear-stained faces of long-forgotten wards and hollow halls.

Not only are they the nurturers, but they are also the creators. They are those who create light, hope and purpose along the darkened pathway of a world too-often seduced by the covert, or the clamor, or sometimes shallow meanderings.

…And those humble-hearted souls are quietly plying their trade of words, images or ideas – uplifting the world as an air current does a dirigible; steering, guiding, directing the rigid or otherwise rudderless.

So, yeah. The sun is shining brightly today, shooing the clouds away, lighting up the crevices and crannies. It knows what it’s doing.

* We’ve started a new blog called perspectivesinfaith! Thought you’d like to know. If you enjoy a good old heart-warming, up-lifting, soul-nurturing, read, please take a look. We’d appreciate your feedback. Thanks! Here’s a sample:

Overwhelmed by Glory

Have you ever seen such beauty that you were overwhelmed?

I love the word Gobsmacked! It’s ‘wicked-good’! The definition, according to Dictionary.com is: utterly astounded, astonished, flabbergasted. They go on to say that the word origin is: fromgob‘mouth’ + smacked‘clappinghandoverinsurprise’.

I had that experience today, while driving down the Niagara escarpment, towards Lake Ontario. The vista on any ordinary day is spectacular. But, in the fall, on a clear day, it is especially beautiful with a full on view of the colorful foliage, the Niagara River and Lake beyond.

But today was a one-in-a-million kind of day. The sky was dancing, alight and aloft. On my right were dark clouds, ominous and foreboding, having a look of doom about them. To the left it was clear and vivid blue, checkered with colossal, billowy clouds.

An ‘ooh’ or an ‘ah’ will often escape me, while taking all this in. But today was that one-in-a-million. If my hands had been free, I would have been gob-smacking all over my face!

The sun was playing peek-a-boo with the clouds, streaks of light streamed down on any given destination. Birds of prey soared high above the earth, glints of sunshine bouncing off their wings. And as if all that weren’t enough, a rainbow appeared before me; a complete arch, weaving in and out of the doom and gloom clouds, to the right.

My gob-smacked mouth started rejoicing and shouting and tears escaped their borders. And then it hit me that we’d just flown right past beauty and over into glory! One of the definitions of beauty is something that pleases the aesthetic senses. But my favorite definition of glory, according to Merriam-Webster goes like this: worshipful praise, honor, and thanksgiving.

So that’s what I was doing! Natural, spontaneous, and full of hope for a future filled with those one-in-a-millions! Forever being overwhelmed by glory.